


Not Meant To Be

by Penryn3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Complete, Denial of Feelings, F/M, One Shot, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Smut, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penryn3/pseuds/Penryn3
Summary: “It could have been different for us. I wish I'd realised that sooner, before it was too late."A series of Ron/Pansy moments.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 55





	Not Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I make no money from the writing/publishing of this story.

For the thousandth time, _I shouldn’t be doing this_ crosses his mind and for the thousandth time, he can’t bring himself to stop.

It's their Eighth Year at Hogwarts and ‘this’ happened to be fucking Pansy Parkinson in the fourth-floor Charms corridor at three in the morning. He has her supported between his large body and the wall – her legs wrapped around his waist – fingernails razor sharp where they rake down his back.

When she comes undone, he pulls back to watch her face. It's his favourite part. Because, in those brief seconds of vulnerability, the mask Pansy always shows the world falls away completely. It's addictive - a secret just for him.

 _Just one more time_ , he promises himself. _Then I’ll let her go_.

*******

Her eyes meet his from across the ballroom. They are at a Christmas Charity Gala to raise money for the Children’s Wing at St Mungo's. He hasn’t seen her since their Graduation. Her ebony hair is much longer, the previous bob-cut now hanging heavy down her back in shining Hollywood waves. She is perched gracefully on the edge of a velvet stool at the bar, one leg crossed over the other - the elegance of her floor-length gown contrasting with the almost obscene amount of golden skin on display from the thigh-high split in the green silk.

She watches him over the rim of her martini glass, her gaze intensely direct in its focus. She swirls the cocktail stick in her drink before bringing it to her mouth, curling her painted red lips around the vodka-soaked olives in a way that is positively indecent. The sharp arch of her eyebrow raises in challenge and he finds his feet moving across the room almost without thought. The dancers move in a blur around him until he is standing at her side, the emerald of one long earring brushing against her bare shoulder as she turns her head to look up at him through her eyelashes.

He turns to the bartender.

" _I’ll have whatever she’s having_."

*******

“Pansy,” Ron says hesitantly the next morning. “I was thinking that we should, you know…not tell anybody about this.”

Pansy stiffens in his arms. She slides, nude, from the bed and pulls on a silver satin kimono, gathering her long shining curls from where they are caught underneath the collar and letting them drop down her back.

"It's just, I mean...It's you and it's me and people wouldn't understand." He tries to explain.

“Of course, Weasley,” She says coolly, not looking at him. “Not to worry, who would believe it anyway?”

*******

The next time he see’s Pansy is at the party Draco Malfoy is throwing her to celebrate her engagement to Theodore Nott. The only reason he was even invited is because Hermione and Draco have been working together at the Ministry and have somehow, incredibly, _horrifyingly_ \- become friends. He wasn't sure if he should even go, but in the end, he couldn't help himself.

He skulks at the edges of the party for most of the evening, watching her from the shadows of the corner, drinking firewhiskey and trying not to look like a stalker. Pansy seems determined to _not_ look at him, even though he knows that she knows he is there. Instead, she floats through the room, mingling with guests and sipping on champagne, even though Ron knows she hates it.

She’s wearing a pale pink dress that’s girly and delicate and doesn’t suit her at all. When she throws back her head and laughs, she is the perfect picture of a happy bride to be, but the sound is a little too high to be genuine. 

Two hours later he’s crinkling the delicate material of that pink dress with his fingers as he lifts her onto the porcelain vanity of Malfoy's powder room. It’s quick and rough and secret-dirty. He doesn’t even take off her panties – just shoves the silk to the side as he sheathes himself inside her. She has one arm wrapped around his neck, the other thrown out to the side, palm down, against the mirror. Her long slender fingers are splayed out, smudging the glass and giving him a perfect view of the ridiculously large diamond ring adorning her hand. He can't take his eyes off of it. It glints at him tauntingly, catching the light with every movement as he thrusts himself into her over and over.

_He thinks he might hate Theodore Nott._

*******

Pansy had been riding him on the threadbare couch in his shitty apartment when a sharp efficient knock sounded at the door. They had both frozen, staring at each other for long seconds before Pansy had leapt off of him, hastily grabbing her clothes and running into his bedroom and quietly shutting the door.

Ron hurriedly does up his pants and finger-combes his hair, before opening his front door and receiving the shock of his life to find Draco Malfoy standing on the other side.

“Weasley, may I come in?”

Ron wracks his brain, trying to come up with a plausible reason to deny him entry. He didn’t think _I was just fucking your best friend on my falling apart couch and don’t want you to know_ counted. Sighing, he steps aside and gestures for him to enter, praying that Pansy has the sense to remain hidden until Malfoy leaves.

Malfoy strides past him before coming to an abrupt halt when he reaches the living room. Malfoy turns, his nostrils flaring as he delicately sniffs the air, a peculiar expression crossing his face as he looks at Ron. Ron shifts from foot to foot. Does the room smell like sex? He subtlety inhales through his nose. All he can smell is…gardenias. Pansy’s perfume. Malfoy is still looking at him oddly.

“Yes, Malfoy? Did you want something? I can’t imagine this is a social call.” Ron says, hoping to distract him.

Malfoy opens his mouth, closes it and then opens it again, before:

“It is my plan to ask Hermione out on a date,” He states stiffly.

The words take a second to register. Malfoy is glaring at him defiantly, fingers flexing at his side and clearly waiting for Ron to protest.

“Okay,” Ron says nonchalantly, putting his hands in his pockets.

“See Weasley, I _knew_ you would-,” Draco spits out, before pausing. “Wait... _what_?”

Ron shrugs. “I said okay.”

Malfoy seems to deflate slightly.

“I guess...well, I guess I expected you to put up more of a fight,” Malfoy admits. 

“You forget, Malfoy. You have to get her to say yes first.” Ron counters, smirking.

Draco looks startled, before grinning.

“I’ll rise to that challenge. You just watch Weasley, you’ll be eating those words by the end of the week.”

Then, to Ron’s surprise, Malfoy steps forward and extends his hand. “Thank you, Weasley.”

Ron only hesitates a moment before stepping forward and gripping Malfoy’s hand in a firm handshake. Malfoy looks relieved, nodding as he buttons his coat and starts for the door.

Ron had just turned his back, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, when:

“Oh, and Weasley?”

Ron turns back to see that Malfoy has paused at the table that holds his late grandmothers’ ornate silver ashtray, staring down at the contents – the butt of a Marlboro cigarette, coated in a circle stain of red lipstick.

Draco looks back over his shoulder to give Ron the same shrewd calculating look he’d given him when he first entered the apartment. Ron’s stomach sinks.

“Give Pansy my regards, would you?” He says a little coldly, and Ron remembers too late that Malfoy is set to be Nott's best man at the wedding.

He’s gone before Ron can reply. He hears his bedroom door open. Pansy is standing there staring at him, her face bleached of colour.

“I've been so stupid,” She says wonderingly, shaking her head.

Ron’s brow furrows. “What do you mean – stupid?” He asks, confused.

“I thought, all this time, that it was a Slytherin thing,” She says slowly. “But Draco wants to ask out Granger and you’re just…fine with it. Forgiven and forgotten." She throws up her hands, voice steadily getting louder as she continues. "And yet, we have been on and off for years, and you still hide me away! Your _shameful little secret_.”

Ron tilts his head in bewilderment. “Wait, are you angry that I said I didn’t mind that your best friend asks my best friend out? Did you _want_ me to pick a fight with him? I don’t understand.”

Pansy laughs, but the sound is hollow and doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” She asks flatly.

She leaves without waiting for an answer, slamming the door on her way out.

*******

She’s yet to notice him. She sits at the vanity, and he takes a moment to admire her – she looks stunningly beautiful, but then, she always does.

Her shining hair is looped into a loose knot at the base of her neck, showing off the skin of her shoulders, glowing golden brown against the ivory silk of her wedding dress. Ron’s eyes follow the long line of tiny buttons running down her back and his fingers itch to slowly undo them all one by one.

His gaze roves back to her face, shifting his large frame in the doorway. She eyes fly to meet his in the reflected mirror. They stare at each other for several long-charged moments until Ron can’t take it anymore.

“Please, don’t marry him.”

Pansy’s eyes flash and her head whips around, her expression fierce.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to,” Ron says, swallowing hard.

Her face hardens. “That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Because you don’t want to,”

Pansy stands in a fluid motion. “And If I _don’t_ marry him? What happens then?” she murmurs softly.

Ron opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“See? That, right there, is why I’m marrying Theo,” Pansy says. “I could walk out of this room right now and call the whole thing off. And what’s more, I _would_. I would give myself to you forever if I thought you could accept me. If you could openly admit to everyone that you want to be with me. But that is never going to happen, is it? Because you will always be Harry Potter's best friend, and I will always be the girl that tried to hand him over to Voldemort.”

“I…" Ron trails off. Because she’s right. How could he tell them? How could he ever explain? He half-raises his hand toward her, before letting it drop – not knowing what to say.

It seems that this alone is answer enough. Pansy blinks rapidly before looking at the floor and nodding. She takes a moment, before raising her chin.

“ _Thank you_ ,” She breathes. “Thank you for making this choice so easy."

Her expression goes blank. "You should join the rest of the guests; the ceremony is about to start.” She finishes evenly.

She turns her back on him, picking up a tube of lipstick and sitting back down in a gesture of clear dismissal, but Ron can’t help but notice the way her hand trembles as she applies it.

Ron sits on the very end of a row of wedding guests, on the right-hand side. He deliberately chose this seat because from this angle, he can only see Nott's back. He's honestly not sure he would be able to make it through the ceremony if he has to look at the smug bastards lovesick face.

When the celebrant asks if anyone has objections to this marriage, Pansy’s eyes flicker past Theo to meet his and Ron bites his tongue so hard that he tastes blood.

*******

That should have been it. It should have been over.

*******

He has her front pressed up against her entryway table – they hadn’t even made it past the foyer. He stands behind her, one hand gripping the edge of the wood next to her hip, the other arm wrapped around her, slanting across her ribs and under her breasts – feeling the gasping movements of her breath rushing in and out of her lungs. His mouth presses, open and panting, against her neck.

She likes it like this. Ron thinks maybe it eases her guilt to pretend it's Theo and not him. Though he knows that her husband doesn’t fill her like this. Fuck her like this. Make her _scream_ like this.

He knows because she's told him before, in the shadows late at night when he can’t see her face, where they pretend that they arn't terrible people.

*******

“I love you,” he says.

“I know.”

“This has to stop.”

“I know.”

*******

The next month, Draco proposes to Hermione. Harry throws them a huge party at Grimmauld Place to celebrate.

Ron knows Pansy will be there.

He doesn't go.

*******

Draco Malfoy was once again standing at his front door. Though, this time, he doesn’t bother waiting for an invitation before barging inside.

“By all means Malfoy, do come in,” Ron says sarcastically when the other man brushes past him.

Malfoy looks at him coldly. “Pansy’s pregnant.” He announces without preamble.

Something inside Ron’s chest clenches painfully. He forces himself not to react.

“And why are you telling me?”

Draco’s eyes narrow. “I’m not going to dance around the subject Weasley. I know that you and Pansy have been secretly shagging each other for years. I confronted her about it after the wedding and she promised me the affair had stopped,” Draco says curtly.

He slumps onto the edge of Ron’s coffee table with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He looks at Ron and his eyes are tired. “Pansy’s always been a terrible liar.”

"Look Weasley, your business is your business. Hell knows I’ve made some piss poor decisions in my life and Pansy has never said a word. But Theo is my friend, and I’d like to be prepared for how likely it is that this child is going to be born with Weasley red hair.”

Guilt churns in Ron’s stomach like acid. “How far along is she?” He asks tightly.

“A little over four months.”

Ron sighs, feeling both relief and disappointment crashing over him in suffocating waves. “It’s not mine. I haven’t seen or heard from Pansy in six months,” he says, truthfully.

Draco lets out a heavy breath and nods. His eyes dart searchingly over Ron’s face, his expression pitying. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” He phrases it like a question, even though they both know it’s not.

“I’ll see you to the door, Malfoy.” Is Ron's only reply.

*******

He's doing his Christmas shopping at the weekend markets in Hogsmeade when he sees her. It’s snowing and her cheeks are rosy pink from the cold, her long fishtail braid studded with snowflakes where it spills out from underneath a red knitted cap. Her softly rounded belly is swelling noticeably from between the folds of her navy pea coat and she's positively _glowing_.

She catches sight of him and her face flushes even further as she ducks her head to stare down at her brown leather boots. Then she's walking towards him. Ron has no idea what he should do, and the time to decide is gone when she's suddenly standing directly in front of him.

She doesn't say anything and neither does he. Ron doesn’t know how long they stand there – just staring at each other. The wind is ferocious and the snow swirls in dancing patterns around them. The moment feels made for silence, the rest of the shoppers and noise falling away until it is just them, the snow and all the things they've left unsaid.

Finally, Pansy sighs.

“It isn’t yours,” She says.

“I know.” 

“Sometimes, I wish it was.”

“I know that too.”

She nods and looks down at her feet.

“Pansy?”

He brushes his finger under her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes meet.

“It could have been different for us. I wish I'd realised that sooner, before it was too late,” He admits softly.

“I know.”

“We would have been happy together.”

“I know that too.”

She takes a step toward him, small hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Ron leans into it, eyes locked with hers. It’s an acknowledgment of all the things that might have been. It’s acceptance. It’s goodbye.

Pansy lips lift in a small sad smile, and then she’s pulling away - ice replacing her warmth.

Ron watches as the woman he loves walks away. The further away she gets, the colder he feels, until it’s almost unbearable. By the time the swirling snow swallows her body, Ron feels like he might never be warm again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments/Kudos are lovely ❤


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